Do This Again
by squeakyswings
Summary: Thirteen years and everything changes. — Remus/Sirius - M to be safe


**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Harry Potter_.

do this again

They spend a lot of time being distant. When they walk side by side, they keep about six inches between them, so Remus's long fingers do not accidentally brush against the back of Sirius's large hand. They sit across from each other at the table in Grimmauld Place and they cross their ankles beneath the benches, so there is no chance that Sirius's foot will find its way up along Remus's calf. Thirteen, nearly fourteen, years of being apart, and it is almost easy to keep up these barriers.

Remus often thinks it's stupid; there aren't dementors keeping him from Sirius now, he might as well hug him, the way he did when he first found out about Peter's survival and betrayal. He might as well accidentally and purposefully touch him. He doesn't understand what's stopping him, except for when he sees Sirius's eyes lower to his hands where they're clenched on the tabletop and Remus knows that there is baggage there. And it's an uncharitable thought, but Remus doesn't need more baggage.

He feels lonely, sometimes, but less lonely than he had before Sirius came to get him after Voldemort returned. He's here, in Sirius's family's horrible house, preparing for a new war, hopefully one with a real, satisfying end, and he can see his old mate every day. Even if they choose not to touch each other, well, at least they're both here, both breathing and both mostly innocent.

Sirius would laugh at that. He'd tell Remus they're not innocent at all. They've done worse shit than some of Voldemort's loyalist groupies. But snogging on train tracks and running with a werewolf and jumping drunkenly from windows—that sort of shit isn't bad. Remus considers it good. Or it had been good, back when they were doing all of it.

Dumbledore might not be of the same opinion; he seems to think that any attitude inclined towards recklessness is tragic. He warns Sirius to stay inside with daily messages; three days before the end of the Hogwarts school year he informs them that Grimmauld Place will become the permanent headquarters over the summer, meaning that the halls will be overflowing with Weasleys and meetings will happen weekly—possibly nightly—and Remus is not upset about this. Rationally, he thinks it's a good thing. He likes the Weasleys, and they may be able to accomplish something, with everyone wholly focused on finding Voldemort.

Irrationally, he realizes it'll be even easier to keep the space between himself and Sirius. They won't have long silent pauses at meals, pauses which they once would have filled with snogging or fondling but which now consist of slicing food into increasingly smaller pieces. Remus won't be tempted to leave his room in the middle of the night when he can't sleep and find his way into Sirius's. He'll stop falling back toward his teenage years and take on the responsibility that everyone expects of him.

He will, when they get here. But the last night before they're supposed to arrive, he can't sleep. And the thought of Sirius's bed and Sirius, his old baggage-ridden mate Sirius, lying seven stairs above him makes Remus anxious. Space suddenly seems suffocating; it closes in on him, like it's impassable and insurmountable. He wants Sirius, now, in a way he hasn't since they were seventeen and stupid.

He closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on something else; on the mysteries surrounding Voldemort's return, the Order's troubling attitude toward Harry, Dumbledore's pigheadedness, but all that just brings him back to Sirius. Remus remembers the first time they snogged; James had dragged them to Hogsmeade on some wild plan to find a special sort of perfume for Lily's birthday, and then he and Peter had ditched them for drinks in the Three Broomsticks and Sirius and Remus were out on the street, alone, and then all of a sudden Remus's lips were moving against Sirius's. He's still not certain exactly how it happened; it still seems as if Sirius Apparated practically on top of him, from the other side of the street, but he's never regretted it.

Not even now, when regretting it should have been easy, because thirteen years should have made all of that history irrelevant. But it hasn't; Remus is at his door before his mind has finished going over the night of their first kiss, and by the time he realizes what he's doing he's already tapped against the door to Sirius's bedroom.

It takes a few minutes for light to spill out into the hallway, and a few seconds after that Sirius appears in the doorway, his hair messy and his cheeks shadowed in the dim light. He stares at Remus for a moment and then says, in a dry sleepy voice, "You all right, Remus?"

"Yeah," Remus mumbles. He wishes he'd stayed in bed and satisfied himself with memories of Sirius; clearly the other man had not been keeping himself awake with memories of their teenage years. Clearly Sirius has his head on straight (for once).

"What's up, then?" Sirius runs one hand through his hair and the other is still on the edge of the door, as if he's ready to shut it in Remus's face the moment it's moderately polite to do so.

Remus feels stupid. He has spent the last several weeks avoiding touching Sirius, thinking of everything according to how it used to be, but it doesn't seem as if Sirius has been looking at their friendship through the lens of the past. Although, without the past, Remus wouldn't even consider themselves friends. They'd just be housemates, with a lot of uncomfortable silences and leaving the room when the other walks in.

"Remus?" Sirius squints at him through the darkness of the hall. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine," Remus mumbles. "Sorry, I just…" But he can't think of a good excuse. What sort of reasoning could he have, other than the childlike, "Couldn't sleep," or, worse, "Missing you"?

"D'you want to come in?" Sirius's tone is hesitant, and Remus knows he should back away, return to his bed and pass it off as sleepwalking in the morning.

But he can't do that. "Yeah, I do."

Sirius steps aside, and Remus passes by him so closely that he almost imagines that there is no space between his shoulder and Sirius's. Almost, because they don't end up tangled on the bed, and he's sure that if he touches Sirius he'll lose control of himself.

"Thinking about the War?" Sirius asks, leaning against the door so it swings shut. He looks almost young, standing there. Remus wishes for a Time-Turner.

"Trying to." Remus smiles wryly.

"Thinking about something a little less serious?"

Remus sits down slowly at the edge of Sirius's bed and drops his head into his hands. "Are you trying to make a joke?"

"I wasn't. But if it worked out that way, then I'm not complaining."

"Sirius," Remus sighs. "Sirius."

"What's the matter, Moony? Something's been bothering you since you got here. Why haven't you told me?"

"We haven't really been speaking, much," Remus points out.

"No," Sirius admits. "We haven't."

"I don't really get why, though," Remus confesses. "I mean, we've been separated for nearly fourteen years. You'd think we'd have something to say to each other."

"Do you?"

"What?" Remus looks up at Sirius, who's still standing against the door.

"Have something to say to me?"

Remus swallows. "I…I guess I have a lot of things to say to you."

"So, say them, then."

"That's not fair. Don't you have anything to say to me?"

"Of course. But you came to me, remember. You get the first turn."

Remus rolls his eyes. "Fine. I'm bloody pissed at you, still, for not trusting me, back then and now."

Sirius just stares at him. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. After a point, that stops helping. It's your turn."

"I'm pissed at you, too, for not figuring out the Peter thing."

"You've been a bloody egotistical git."

"You've been a fucking coward."

They fall silent, staring at their bare feet on the floor, and then Remus mumbles, "You won't touch me, anymore."

"You won't touch me, either." Sirius's voice is stronger than his, more confident.

"Because you don't want me to."

"How do you know?" Sirius asks. "How could you possibly know that?"

Remus snorts. "You always make the first move."

"I always made the first move. Maybe it's your turn, Remus. Maybe I want to see what you want." He grips the back of his neck. "What do you _want_?"

"I don't want this," Remus answers him. He crosses the room and leans his forehead against Sirius's, eradicating years of distance in a few long strides.

"This, though?" Sirius arms wrap around his waist and his lips move down Remus's scratchy chin and Remus presses his fingertips into Sirius's shoulders. "This is okay?"

"Yeah, this is all right."

They back into the bed and fall onto it, and everything feels different. Remus doesn't recognize the lips and touch and tongue, anymore. Thirteen years and everything changes. But there's something deeper than the differences, now, closer to the thump of his heart than all that old distance. Remus thinks, everything could be all right, if they just keep going. If they don't fall still and break down; he'll be Remus and Sirius will be Sirius and they'll touch each other and kiss each other and everything will be different but it will also be good.

And so he closes his eyes and kisses this new Sirius with his new (old) lips and lets himself believe that it will all turn out better than it has been.

**A/N:** I was rereading _Prisoner of Azkaban_ a few weeks back, and this happened. I appreciate reviews!


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